


New Growth

by PTwritesmore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Good Theodore Nott, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Minor Character Death, POV Theodore Nott, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29886198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTwritesmore/pseuds/PTwritesmore
Summary: Like many who live through war, Theo Nott's choices haunt him. When he returns to Hogwarts for his eighth year, can he face the location of his most difficult decision? And can a classmate change his outlook? EWE, Nottgood one shot for QLFC
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	New Growth

Theo Nott was staring at a dying man. This wasn’t anything new today; the conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts saw too many deaths. But, unlike the rest, this man was crumpled at the bottom of the big hill, his Death Eater mask lying a few feet away, and he was alone.

Except for Theo. 

“Theodore?” the man asked weakly. Theo started; this was the first time he’d ever associated the word weak with the wizard in front of him. “Is that you, my son?”

“I’m here, Father,” Theo said, kneeling in the blood that stained the grass. “What happened?” He knew it was a stupid question, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. His father could only groan in response, his head lolling back on the grassy knoll. A weary finger pointed towards his chest. 

Theo tore at his father’s black robes, finding ribbons of red running across his chest. He recognized the  _ Sectumsempra _ spell; he’d been the one to help Draco with healing salves after he was discharged from the Hospital Wing. Draco told him once, when they’d gotten stupidly drunk a few months ago, how painful the spell was, how sure he was that he’d die. Firewhiskey soaked words tumbled out of Draco’s mouth, like the drink had broken some sort of dam around the memory. He told Theo everything he knew about the curse, including the counter-curse. 

Theo could save his father. 

He stared down at the wizard, his face looking so wrong without the frigid, calculating expression that Theo was so used to. Theo held his own personal boogie man, his mother’s murderer. His father who ignored him, who tortured him for speaking back. Theo spent his life paralyzed by fear because of this wizard. 

If Theo saved him, his father would spend the rest of his life behind bars, if they didn’t give him the Dementor’s Kiss first. 

“I need you to stay true to the Nott name, boy.” His father coughed weakly, fighting the blood gurgling in his throat. “Do you underst-”

“Stop talking,” Theo said, trying for a soothing voice. He didn’t know how to comfort this man, cold and distant and cruel. He didn’t even know  _ why _ he wanted to comfort him. He hated him with every fiber of his being. 

“Promise me,” his father said hoarsely. “Promise me you’ll carry on the mission. Promise me you’ll fight these blood traitors until the end. That yo-you’ll stay loyal to the Nott name.”

“I promise,” Theo lied. “I promise, Father.” As Theo spoke, his father faded. Theo couldn’t tear his eyes away, shocked by the sense of calm he finally felt as he watched the life drain out of the older wizard. 

Holding his father in his arms, he looked up towards the school, wondering if he should alert the Ministry officials swarming the castle. He spotted a lone woman watching from atop the hill, like the goddess Athena looking over a battlefield. Slowly she turned, her long blonde hair blowing in the wind, and she disappeared over the crest of the hill, practically gliding out of sight. Unable to make out who she was, Theo wondered if he’d seen an angel of death. 

The image of that form watching his inaction haunted him even more than his regret, an unwelcome ghost that followed him awake and asleep. He tried for the duration of the summer to force her out of his head, but she stayed with him. Three months later and Theo stood in the same spot at the bottom of the big hill. He’d returned to Hogwarts just months after the war like nothing had happened; they all had. Theo knew he wasn’t the only one carrying scars, but he was the son of a prominent Death Eater. Theo had nothing to grieve. 

So, the first Saturday morning back at school, he returned to the bottom of the hill to face his demons. He’d assumed this spot would appear to him just like it did in his memories, in his nightmares. The image of his father fading had played again and again, tormenting Theo with guilt. When he walked over the hill, he expected to see a ring of red in the place he last saw his father and that angel of death waiting for him.

But, here, now, the blood no longer stained the ground. Instead, there was new growth, the space covered in green grass and purple thistles. 

Just months later and there was beauty where there had been hatred, life where there had been death. Theo wondered if new growth would overtake his soul, cleansing the dark mark he left by his decision for indecision. He knew that he was a murderer, even if his hand didn’t cast the curse. He was a murderer, just like his father. 

“Hello,” a soft voice behind him greeted, startling him. Theo turned to see a wispy blonde staring at him. Dressed in what looked like two halves of different jumpers sewn together and jeans, the girl smiled gently at him. 

Theo had seen the witch before, heard her announce for Quidditch games and seen her walking the halls wearing strange costumes. The day his father had been outed as a Death Eater in his fifth year, he’d finally learned her name. Luna Lovegood had been one of those who’d led to his father’s arrest, someone braver than Theo doing what he should’ve done long ago. Since then, she became hard to miss, at least to Theo. Always smiling, always humming, Luna became like a ray of light in his dark life. He admired her from a distance, knowing if he got too close to her, he’d only bring her pain, his family’s baggage too heavy for him to burden someone as light as her. When she disappeared around the Christmas holiday last year, Theo became despondent. He knew what his father and his associates would do to a blood traitor. While he was thankful when he caught a glimpse of her before the battle started, she looked wrong; Luna was too thin, too angular, too dim. 

The witch in front of him was still slender, but she looked healthy, happy. Or she did usually; she was staring at him with concern now. Or curiosity. She was staring at him, he realized, and he’d been staring back in silence. 

“What are you doing out here?” Theo asked, finally finding his voice. 

“I’m looking for moon frogs,” Luna said simply. “Their secretion is helpful for healing emotional wounds. I thought people may need them.” Theo nodded, trying to remember if they’d covered moon frogs in Care of Magical Creatures. 

“Would you like to come look for them with me?” Luna asked as she twirled past him, gracefully floating away. As she moved, a flash of recognition passed through him; the witch gliding away from him was the angel of death. Theo shook his head, knowing that wasn’t right; perhaps Luna was just an angel. Or, her presence here was some mockery of Fate, a dramatic irony he wasn’t let in on yet. 

“Sure,” Theo found himself saying, his feet following her to the lake. They walked in silence - or near silence. Luna was humming softly, a cheery tune that Theo couldn’t identify. They spent the next half hour searching for moon frogs, though Theo didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. Several times he pointed to frogs and Luna just giggled at him, explaining that, while they were lovely, they weren’t moon frogs. That half hour with Luna was the lightest Theo had felt in...years. 

It became a habit, the pair of them meeting up early on Saturday mornings and hunting for some ridiculous creature. This time was his favorite of the week, spent in an easy quiet with the beautiful, brilliant witch. Sometimes they’d chat, but Luna was one of the only other people that Theo had met who was comfortable with silence. 

One cold November morning, Luna stopped short and turned her piercing blue eyes on him. His heart flipped. 

“You don’t come to the grief group.”

“No,” Theo drawled, hoping he was coming off calm. “I don’t.”

“Why not?” she asked, her usually melodic voice serious. 

“I guess I don’t have much to grieve,” Theo said, more bitterly than he intended. He glanced over his shoulder, that spot by the hill making his stomach lurch. His father’s words echoed in his mind, “ _ Promise me you’ll fight these blood traitors until the end.” _ He looked back at Luna, at the blood traitor who helped put his father away, and wondered if there would be some cosmic consequence for knowingly lying to his dying father. 

“What is your favorite creature?” Luna asked, still studying him. No matter how much time he spent with her, Theo wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to her non sequiturs. 

“I don’t know,” Theo said, pursing his lips. “Probably a hippogriff. Why, what’s yours?”

“Why a dapperblimp of course,” Luna lilted. “But I’m rather surprised yours isn't a snake.”

“Why? Because I’m in Slytherin?” Theo scoffed, thinking this was perhaps the most ridiculous thing Luna had said to them in their short friendship. 

“No,” Luna shook her head as she spoke. “No, though that is a nice coincidence. It’s because snakes shed their skin.”

A single finger dragged against his forearm, her gentle touch through his robes prompting him to shiver. His eyes snapped up, brown meeting blue, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss Luna Lovegood. As she leaned closer to him, he realized he wasn’t the only one wondering. Theo decided now was the time for decision; he ducked his head and brushed his lips against hers. Luna smelled like lavender and sea salt, her lips impossibly soft. He pulled back, resting his forehead on the short witch’s. 

“It’s okay to shed your skin, Theodore Nott,” she whispered, her breath hot on his face. “A fresh start is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“A fresh start,” he murmured, thinking of thistles and snakes and chilly Saturday mornings with Luna Lovegood. Perhaps the light of Luna Lovegood could remove the stain, and bring forward the new growth he so desperately wanted. “A fresh start with you sounds good to me.”


End file.
